A Present on a Spring Day
by wackywhateleys
Summary: A young Randall gives something to Angela. Henry kind of watches. (Oneshot.)


_(Gotta love cute British kids.)_

* * *

"All right, it's now or never. I'm gonna do it."

"M-Master Randall…"

The two boys, Randall and Henry, wavered at the base of the hill, looking up to the top of it. Angela was up there, reading under the tree, but not really paying much attention. She looked at them. Randall waved.

Henry glanced nervously back at the house. "Master Randall, what if the mistress notices that you—"

"She won't," Randall said with an easy smile. "Mom's got so much jewelry she's never going to miss just one."

All the same, Henry cringed, like he was already bracing for the mistress's punishment. At the top of the hill Angela was staring down at them, smiling expectantly now.

"Angela doesn't have any jewelry, she told me yesterday," Randall confided. "So look, I took the sparkliest one I could find." He unfurled his pink little fingers and there in the center of his palm was a gleaming, golden, diamond-studded ring; he beamed. Henry leaned over it in awe and did a little nervous shuffling dance. Randall was at ease. "She's going to love it."

Henry whimpered and covered his ears.

Randall climbed up the hill by himself, with his hands folded innocuously behind his back, and Angela grinned as he approached. She put the book aside.

"Hey," Randall said and sat down beside her.

"Hello," she said, and smoothed out her skirts.

The spring breeze was cool and smelled nice. It ruffled Angela's hair and the leaves of the trees, and carried their gaze down to where Henry stood shuffling his feet at the base of the hill, trying not to look at them; and then past him, to Randall's house, the biggest house in the whole town. The sight of it spurred Randall on.

"Hey, Angela, gimme your hands."

She looked at him with as much flirtatious suspicion as a nine-year-old can.

"Come on," he said.

"It better not be another worm," she said, and offered them to him, cupped.

"Nah," he laughed. He held his fist over her hands. "Now close your eyes…"

She did, and flinched a little. He dropped the golden ring into her palms.

"Open 'em," he said.

Angela opened her eyes, and saw the ring; she picked it up and looked at it, twirling it between her forefinger and thumb and peering through the center. It was warm and grubby from having been in Randall's hand, but the diamonds still shone. "Where'd you get this?" She was impressed.

"I found it," he said, which was true. "When I'm a famous archaeologist, I'll find you lots more pretty stuff like this."

Angela slipped the ring onto each of her fingers in turn. "It's too big for me right now." She closed the ring in her fist and put it in a pocket of her skirt. Randall followed it with his eyes.

"That's ok," he said, "you can put it on a string and wear it like a necklace."

"That would be good," she said.

At the base of the hill Henry milled about, wringing his hands and occasionally glancing up at Randall to see how it was going. He caught Randall's eye. Randall gave him a thumbs-up.

"Hey Angela," Randall said, "I've got a question to ask you."

"What?" She leaned in. Angela was mature for her age already, or thought so, and so she imagined she knew what Randall was playing at: she knew what a ring meant, after all.

"There's an ancient culture that gave slaves as wedding presents. Can you take Henry off my hands for me?"

"RANdall!" Angela seized the book at her side and tried to give Randall a playful whack on the head; he dodged and, laughing, struggled to take the book from her hands. Henry hurried up the hill and fluttered around the conflict, fretting, not knowing which side to protest against, but they were unstoppable anyway, rolling in the grass—and finally Angela hit Randall with the book and it was decided. Randall fell over, said "ow", and then laughed. Angela pretended to be exasperated and helped him up.

"But, Angela, really. Will you marry me someday?" Randall said, while their hands were still joined.

Angela hesitated for the minute that was required of her, as a young lady. "I think I will, Randall Ascot. Because you need to be watched."

And Randall kissed her hand, and grinned at Henry for approval.

Henry's blue eyes widened even further than they had before, and he looked at Randall with admiration. Randall smiled like a boy used to getting everything he wanted on the first try—then he tossed a shiny something to Henry and in an instant dashed down the hill. Henry looked at the ring in his hands with bewilderment before realizing it had all been another prank, and he bolted after Randall, and Angela gave chase.

It was always like this with Randall: she knew she had him, but he still kept running off. That was all right. He was a boy, and he would be like this forever. She would keep chasing him, and eventually he would come back again.


End file.
